Skin Of A Sinner Book Novels & Stories

✒✒✒ “Chris?” Senna reached her hands to Chris’ shoulder. When the lager turned around Senna gasped and froze in shock. Chris was faxing her but it was difficult to know whether he was looking at her or not. Because his eyes were replaced with a black hole. It looks endless and the more Senna looked at it the more it feels like it was sucking her in. His lips opened as if to answer her question. But it was not the normal lips that Chris had. It was slimy and broken. There was a stench coming out of it. Senna shuddered and goosebumps run around her body. “Chris? What’s going on?” Trembling, Senna managed to ask her friend, if it was still her friend.

A man stood in front of me. Close. Too close. For a moment, my brain simply stopped working. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and shirtless. Dark tattoos crawled over one arm and disappeared across his chest. Hard muscle stretched beneath his bronze skin, every line of his body sharp and defined. A small piercing caught the light at the corner of his lower lip, drawing attention to a mouth that looked equally dangerous and distracting. He wasn't young. There was something older about him. More mature. More commanding.

Instead of yanking my skirt down and screaming for him to get out (as any sane person might do), my hand returned to its sinful work beneath my panties. A strangled gasp tore from Ethan’s throat as he realized what I was doing. He had taken another step back as if to leave, but now he went utterly still, eyes widening even more. He watched. I kept my gaze fixed on him, half in defiance, half in desperate need. My face was burning with embarrassment and arousal, but I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop. The delicious pressure of my fingers on my clit again dragged me back from the brink of loss. My hips bucked against my hand and I let out a shuddering moan.

"I think your view of the world is very narrow, Niko. There's no saints. We're all sinners. And as for redemption, I've never said anything about that, now did I?" He smiles, his black eyes shining. "You sure didn't. Tell me little Ms. Sinner: Just how dirty are you?" I eye him silently. I bring my hands to my shirt, unbuttoning the first one. His eyes fix themselves on the display, his smile falling in the slightest. I unbutton The second, slowly, deliberately. My fingers clasp the third, my cleavage poking through the shirt. "I guess you'll never know, huh?" I stand, as he chuckles lightly.

What if I fall into his trap and he ends up hurting me like he surely has done with other girls before? Reaching out, I pull the book into my lap, flipping it open right at the middle. Knowledge is power, and in order to be stronger than him, I need to prepare myself. And if my memory serves me right, he has read the book about me, too. Looking through a few paragraphs, I indulge myself in some of his back story. A lot is in relation to him being a Sin, and his relationship with his siblings. As interesting as it is, I want the details no one knows.

I became someone I no longer recognized, a man burdened with sins too heavy for anyone else to carry. In time, my life spiraled out of control. The betrayal of my own conscience led me down a path I hadn’t anticipated. I left the military, lost to my own demons, and found myself entangled in the very world I once fought against. The mafia became my refuge, a dark sanctuary where I tried to drown my guilt, my anger, and my sorrow. I became a sinner—willingly committing sins, crossing lines I never would have imagined as a soldier. I justified it then, telling myself it was all I deserved, that I was beyond redemption. But deep down, I was trapped in a web I couldn't escape.

I dipped the bloody fingers in. The scream this time nearly split his throat. I sighed in pleasure. “You touched her with these hands,” I reminded him calmly. I dropped the bowl. Picked up the sword. Heavy. Sharp. I smiled at him one last time. “For your final sin.” One clean swing. Blood splashed everywhere. Silence followed. I didn’t bother looking back. I wiped my hands on my pants and walked out. Nina Blake……I don’t forgive. Not when my dove is involved.

he asked, drawing an unknown pattern on my skin, his eyes following his fingers. “What’s yours?” I asked, inching closer to him. He smells so good. The stranger grinned, peering at me through sensual eyes. “I’m sure I asked first.” “I don’t care,” I said, letting my hand rest on his thigh. He was athletic—that much was obvious, but I wondered if the rest of his body was decorated by the dark tattoos. I needed to see it. “Damian,” he said with no hesitation, catching me by surprise. I was expecting another rebuttal. Damian. I liked the name.

Murphy's POV I stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the collar of my cut with the leather jacket bearing the insignia of the Dead Revenants biker gang. My mind was still brooding over the encounter at the restaurant earlier. Myles’ fucking smug face, his calm fucking demeanor, that goddamn arrogance—it burned in my chest the more I thought about all of it. That bastard thought he was untouchable. But he’d learn soon enough. Pain was a great teacher, and it seemed he wanted it.

“Thank you. I’ll make sure he gets it back.” The moment her fingers brushed mine as she handed it over, despite being re-washed countless times as I had demanded, his scent still hit me—rich amber, leather, and something darker, masculine, unmistakably him. Heat flooded between my thighs instantly. My pussy clenched hard, a sudden rush of wetness soaking my panties. I pressed my legs together under the sheets, nodding quickly until the maid left and closed the door behind her.